


All the Time in the World

by AphroditesTummyRolls



Series: To Be At Home [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Ace Friends there is an asterik to help you avoid the sex acts if you still wanna try reading :), Backstory, Bathtub Sex, Bathtubs, Deep conditioning your immortal soulmate's hair is something that can just be so personal, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Joe's curls and Nico's affinity for them, M/M, Malta fic, Returning to Malta (The Old Guard), otherwise known as CURLS, some light angst in there???, the sequel to FRECKLE FIC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27458965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphroditesTummyRolls/pseuds/AphroditesTummyRolls
Summary: “D’you remember the first time you taught me to do this?” He murmured into the quiet, lips turned up into a private smile.“Was it the inn in Bohemia?”He tutted playfully, giving a little tug on the ringlet in his hands. “So close, but not quite.”“Tell me the story, then.” He chuckled, hands under the water and gliding over Nicky’s thighs.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: To Be At Home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008825
Comments: 42
Kudos: 244





	All the Time in the World

**Author's Note:**

> HEY YESTERDAY WAS THE TITS! HAVE SOME MEANINGFUL JOE/NICKY BATHTIME IN CELEBRATION!!! 
> 
> A couple things: My ace friends and folks uninterested in the sex parts-- look for the three asterisk (***). That'll indicate to you where the porny bit starts and ends. Sex is hinted and stuff throughout the story, but the actual act is indicated that way. I hope you enjoy! <3 
> 
> And, there's references/jokes in here about Joe being a bit of a clean freak when it comes to hygiene Back in the Day. That's because this is from Nicky's POV and that's the way he remembers this super old memory. Do I think Joe is actually the way he's described here when it came to bathing in the olden days? I don't know, I don't think so hahaha I haven't gotten to that point in the backstory plotting yet. 
> 
> My favorite of my headcanons for Joe/Nicky that Nicky joined Joe out of his shame for his actions in Jerusalem. That he begged Joe to let him travel with him to protect him (medieval bodyguard fic, basically haha) and do penance for his sins. (He even kneels and swears fealty to him, which Joe thinks is super weird and he just wants this asshole to get on with it if he's gonna come with him). That's referenced in here, so I figured I should let you in on that little tidbit. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! <3 I need validation to survive, please comment if you like it!

The first time Nicolo and Yusuf bathed together, it was by the river— he wasn’t sure which river. It had probably changed names and countries a hundred times by now. All he remembered was that, by the time they heard the steady rush of water and cleared the brush and trees to the bank, he was half mad with annoyance. 

If that man made one more grumbled complaint— one more clearly telegraphed grimace— about the supposed _smell of him,_ Nicoló might have to break their truce and run the bastard through. 

It had been a week since they last bathed— _privately,_ as they always did in the months since Yusuf had begrudgingly allowed Nico to travel beside him. The week had been hot and long, full of travel, but it had _only_ been a week. Nicolo was accustomed to the feeling of being unwashed, but Yusuf was an absolute _child_ about it. He complained of the itch under his clothes, the smell of campfire stuck in his curls, the gritty feeling under his beard. 

Nico didn’t hide the roll of his eyes when they came upon the lazy current and his companion cried out in joy to Allah. He ran down the bank, completely forgetting their horses, their supplies, _Nicolò—_ he rolled his eyes until he thought he might pull a muscle. He sighed. 

He pointedly did _not_ feel a swooping sensation drop in his gut, expanding his chest with warmth. He did _not_ fight down his smile at the man’s joy, because there was no smile to fight— 

Now, with steam curling through the air and nearly a thousand years between them and their nameless river, Nicky turned the corner into their bathroom and let himself grin. The warmth that glowed in his chest and thumped in his veins was _love,_ watching Joe as he swayed and hummed to himself, a towel around his waist and almond soap in his hand. The shea butter had been set up to warm nice and slow, and the room swam with scents. Like the old bathhouses— humid and heady. 

“Are you ready?” Nicky murmured into the quiet, meeting his gaze through the hazy mirror. Joe smiled, his muscles relaxed, looking soft in the honey-colored light of the room. 

He turned around and met his eyes full on. “I am, but I see you’re not.” His hand snuck up to make his point, under the hem of his shirt. His fingertips stroked the trail of hair above Nicky’s waistband and he felt himself swallow. 

He took his Love’s hand by the wrist, tugging just enough to pull him closer and bring his knuckles to his lips. 

“None of that, _Hayati.”_ He said with a soft smile, “This is for you, about _you.”_

“You needed me, that’s what started this whole thing—“ 

“The sun’s effect on your beautiful skin is what started this!” He teased back, before letting his smile become more serious. “And nothing brings me more solace than getting to show my love for you. So, get in the tub.” 

Joe rolled his eyes, letting out a theatrical, put-upon sigh that made Nicky snort. 

Watching Joe as he came to sit in the deep tub, Nicky felt something ancient and nostalgic squeeze his heart. 

Their bathtub was deep and old, kept gleaming with its original copper sheen only through their care and keeping. Nicky didn’t remember buying it, didn’t remember whether it came with the house— but it still felt so familiar and simple. He liked the metal and the way it held onto the water’s heat, the size of it and how the lip extended on one side so they could lean back. Everything about the room was hazy and golden, the light of their lamp reflecting off the basin of the tub and making the tile floor shine with amber light. 

There was nothing now but him and Joe, drinking in the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon, sweet almond oil and shea, drenched in gold. Times like these froze, outside of any era. They’d made memories in tubs like this across the centuries and cities— Constantinople, Baghdad, Florence, Cordoba, London. 

So little had changed about the human ritual of bathing, the sight of that man reclined in the hot water with his eyes beckoning Nicky closer could have happened at any time. He remembered it time and time again, somewhere deep in his gut when his mind’s memory couldn’t stretch back far enough. Joe grinned, hand reaching out over the gleaming copper rim. 

“If you want to take care of me, you better hurry up and get over here.” He winked, and Nicky couldn’t help his chuckle.

“Okay _okay.”_ He pulled his shirt over his head. “I thought I remembered someone saying that we had all the time in the world?” He grumbled, even as he finished stripping down and settled himself behind his love. 

Joe hummed contentedly as he reclined back into Nicky, and something in him loosened that he hadn’t known was still tense. They were safe in each other’s arms. He could feel Joe’s heart thumping against his chest. His body was enveloped in water just the right side of too hot, a warm towel draped over the back of it and his love snuggled between his legs, pressed to his chest. 

Nicky hummed back in reply, all teasing conversation forgotten. 

He took a deep inhale and sighed into Joe’s hair— the curls he’d left puffed out and haphazard downstairs. It made him smile. Without looking or even thinking, he was sure he could picture every little freckle he’d kissed, the constellations of little brown speckles as clear as day in his mind’s eye. 

“What’re you smiling about?” Joe said, pinching Nicky’s inner thigh, “Don’t you have a job to do?” 

“Of course— my Love, you _are_ distracting.” 

The melted shea butter was in a dish, on the little table beside them. They bought that table in Vienna in 1904, from a lovely Jewish carpenter whose family had been woodworking for generations. There were so many times when they could’ve lost it— they’d lost plenty of things like it— but when Nicky looked at it, he could still recall the kind eyes and boisterous laugh the man had. 

Once they bought the Valletta house, they both knew that this table belonged here. 

He smiled as he dipped his hands into the warm shea butter, testing the temperature before scooping some into his hand. Feeling loose-limbed and slow, he turned back to Joe, surprised to see him twisted around to look at him. 

His eyes sparkled with a warm cognac brown, freckles peeking out all around and from the crinkles of his smile. 

As if he could read Nicky's mind, he said, “1904 suited you. The _opera,_ all those layers of starched clothes for me to unwrap, the way your hair waved— it’s getting long again.” 

Nicky hummed, “So is yours.” And he used his un-oiled hand to turn Joe back, watching the muscles there twitch and relax as he picked a fluffy ringlet and started massaging the shea butter into the end. Methodically, with practiced ease, he worked his way up the length of the curl, taming the frizzy muss of it back into the coil until he reached the scalp. 

Joe breathed deep, letting out the exhale slow and steady, tilting his head just a little bit back into the soft touch. It reminded Nicky of the river. _Their_ nameless river. 

“D’you remember the first time you taught me to do this?” He murmured into the quiet, lips turned up into a private smile. 

“Was it the inn in Bohemia?” 

He tutted playfully, giving a little tug on the new ringlet in his hands. “So close, but not quite.” 

“Tell me the story, then.” He chuckled, hands under the water and gliding over Nicky’s thighs. 

“The river— back when we were just learning to trust. I was still trying to do penance for you, and you were barely tolerating me and my stink.” 

_“Oh,_ and you did, Babe.” He teased, shoulders shaking with the force of his laugh, “My filthy Frank. My bodyguard.” 

“And some bodyguard I was!” Nicky snorted, “You caught one glimpse of that river and nearly flew down the bank to bathe— an absolute _Primadonna—“_

“Some of us appreciate hygiene!” 

“And I do too— now that we bathe together.” Nicky teased, warmed through and through as he swiped a slick fingertip around the shell of Joe’s ear. He listened as his love cut himself off with a gasp and let it hang in the air for a moment before continuing. 

“Neither of us saw the bandits before they were on you— bathing, vulnerable, completely unprepared. You were already bleeding out by the time I realized and drew my sword on them.” The hand he had under the water crept around to splay over Joe’s stomach, pulling him a scant bit closer and holding him tighter. He stroked down his shoulder from his curls, and pressed a kiss to his spine. 

“I got up, and they didn’t. You were my hero— when I woke up and saw your eyes I knew I’d misjudged you. I knew you were kind, and that you cared.” 

He had been _distraught._

Bloodied and wild, Nicoló had waded into the river after Yusuf’s body. He reached out and grabbed for him, pulling him back and away from the river’s current. He called out his name with his hoarse voice, throat feeling tight and dry as he slogged up onto the bank. Deep red stains were left behind as his wounds healed— spattered across his handsome face, sticking to his hair, slashed across his chest. 

It was the first time Nico held his breath, waiting for Yusuf to breathe with him. 

“I didn’t know yet that I loved you.” He murmured, taking a deep inhale of shea and almond, the smell of his Yusuf. They were surrounded by warmth, in their own little corner of the world— _safe._

“When I woke, I still insisted on bathing.” Joe chuckled, picking up the story with his hand intertwined with Nicky’s over his stomach. “When we traveled further up the bank and I could get the blood off of me, you refused to leave my side. I’d never been self conscious of my nudity before, but under your gaze I felt something strange. And you weren’t even looking at my body—!” He let out a full roll of laughter, “You were so intent on the blood in my hair.” 

So, he’d taught Nicolò to tend to it. He’d pulled the shea butter out of his pack, set it up to warm, and let Nico get into the water with him— still in his tunic and pants, his sword still ready at his side. 

“You let me wash your face, and taught me to condition your curls.” 

Nico hadn’t been allowed to touch many people in his life, then. Not even as a child— he lived in an invisible cage, unable to lift his hands from his sides, not permitted to feel the warmth of another person’s skin. 

He touched Yusuf that evening with tender hands. He’d never touched him before, not really— without an urgent need or the intent to harm. He swiped the blood from his skin with tender, trembling strokes, and Yusuf didn’t look at him with the same suspicion he’d always had. He watched him like he was studying something entirely new and different.

He lost himself in the steady circular rhythm of dipping his fingers into melted shea, lifting them to a clean curl, and massaging them into shining ringlets. They had gleamed in the firelight that night when they made camp, but Nicolò steadfastly did _not_ notice. 

His hair had been so long, then. 

Now, it gleamed in the amber light of the bathroom. The copper refracted into Joe’s soft brown skin, wrapped around each lock of hair, and— even though he couldn’t see it— he knew it was glittering in his dark eyes. 

Joe purred, pushing his head back into Nicky’s slick fingers on his scalp. He squeezed the hand Nicky had pressed to his stomach and dragged it up the skin of his chest until it rested over his heart. 

_“Ti amo, Nicoló.”_ He whispered, and his pulse thumped steadily. Nicky drew in a breath and buried his hand in Yusuf’s curls, pulling his head to the side to bury his face in his neck. 

_“Ya Hayati…”_ he mumbled into his skin, more felt than heard, before he was pressing his lips there. He nipped at the tendon of his neck and tried to convey every thought he couldn’t say into the kiss. He laved over it with his tongue, dragging up to finish at the edge of Joe’s beard. He buried his nose in the hair there and smelled almond, sandalwood, and _Malta._

He wasn’t sure if the moan that filled the room was his or Joe’s, but he felt it through the water and into his bones. Joe’s head was leaned back against his shoulder, his back reclined against Nicky’s chest again. He cradled his love close, as close as he could get him, kissing along his bared throat and all the way out to the muscle of his shoulder. 

There were freckles there, too, kissed into the skin by angels unknown, where the sun had been beating down through his shirt in the garden. Nicky sucked softly at each and every one, feeling Joe’s breaths start to tremble in the hazy air. He ran his nose along the trail of his kisses until he reached the lobe of his ear, reluctantly pulling away. 

His Yusuf _whined,_ and Nicky felt himself smile, something hot and at ease settling in his gut. He pulled back and ran his fingers through the lubricated curls, making sure each and every one was well covered. They sprang back against the pull, shiny and black. It wasn’t until then that he finally let his hand slide down to join the other under the warm bath water, the leftover shea on his fingers making his touch velvety soft as he wound his arm around Joe’s waist. 

_“Cuore mio, please.”_ He pleaded, finally able to turn his head and press his own kisses to Nico’s jaw. 

“My love—“ he purred, a private little smile curling his lips, “There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.”*** 

It was Joe’s turn to nip at him, his jaw getting caught by the click of his teeth as he grumbled an impatient noise against his skin. Nicky didn’t even pretend not to smirk, turning his head to seal their lips together. 

The heartbeat under his hand picked up its pace, and the hips between his thighs wriggled. He scooted back as well as he could, whimpering into his mouth when Nicky gripped him tighter and forced him still. 

Joe continued to squirm, his hips rocking and making waves in the bath as Nicky’s hand on his waist refused to budge. His lips were slack, little puffs of breath fanning against his cheek and sending the heat in his gut out through his veins. It was an intoxicating pulse, reverberating up and down his spine in tingly ripples, flooding his veins like a drug. Joe made a pitiful sound into Nicky’s skin, and he finally won some mercy. 

Licking the slack seam of his lover’s lips, Nicky brushed his nose against the tip of Yusuf’s as he opened his mouth further, welcoming anything his Nico would give him. Finally, he dipped his tongue past his lips and met Joe’s, squeezing his hip as he reveled in the slick slide of them against each other. The kisses were wet, sloppy, filling their bathroom with the sound of lips against lips, the click of teeth and occasional groan. 

Joe had gone silent, his body trembling with want where he was pinned to Nicky’s chest. His chest heaved with deep breaths and soft gasps, pushing his tongue against Nicky’s whenever he licked his way into him. Nicky’s hand let go of his hip, sliding across the taut skin of his abdomen to scratch through the trail of hair beneath his navel. 

That earned him a whispered curse, a sharp inhale, and the hand over his on Joe’s heart squeezing tightly. He looked so sweet when Nicky pulled away to look at him— flush high on his cheeks, freckles popping out in their divine pattern across his face, lips swollen and red, shining with spit. His eyes were closed in bliss, lashes fluttering, and Nicky wished he could press more kisses to that face, to those eyelids, to the elegant bridge of his nose. 

Instead, he inched his hips just a touch forward, letting his hard cock press flush to Joe’s tailbone. Immediately, Joe hummed out a long, low moan, eyes popping open and seeking Nicky’s. They were dark and liquid with arousal, watering in the corners, and Nicky kissed him everywhere he could reach. His heart clenched at the shapeless sound in his lover’s throat, answering with his own as he finally— _finally—_ ground his hips up into Joe’s back. The fingers in the coarse hair on his abdomen started trailing a slow circle just above the base of Joe’s own cock. He was straining, purple at the flared head where Nicky could just make it out under the bath. 

_“Nico, please— Nicolo.”_ Joe whispered, his voice a hoarse rasp. He nuzzled his nose into Nicky’s neck, breathless and wanting. He latched his mouth to the pulse point under his jaw, sucking and licking at the spot until Nicky was sure there wasn’t a single drop of blood left above his waist. 

He finally stopped his circle, trailing a finger past the slit and down the vein of Joe’s cock. His hips jolted, a vibration running through Nicky as Joe let out a purr against the spot where he’d dug into Nicky’s flesh. He was free to grind his hips back into the cock behind him now, and the pressure on his length sent Nicky’s eyes rolled back into his head. Sparks ignited in his vision as he wrapped his hand around the base of his lover’s cock. 

There was a hard nub of a nipple under his fingers, and a heartbeat rapidly hammering in Joe’s chest. His breath caught on the first agonizingly slow stroke, jerking into the tight grip, drowning in the sensation of Nico’s hand twisting at the head— it dragged on the ridge and pinched just enough at the tip. He trembled and sucked in a breath of steamy, scented air, both his hands coming to grip Nicky’s legs just above the knees. 

He smirked, kissing Joe’s temple at the same time that he scratched a nail over his nipple, making him clench and release. It punched a moan out of him that Nicky cherished. 

“Nicolo, _Nicolo—“_ he babbled, his belly trembling as Nicky slid back down his cock only to pump it again, just as slow, just as electric. 

A nipple pinched and rolled between his fingers, a cock twitching in his hand, and soft black curls thrown back into his shoulder, Nicky let himself start a gentle rock of his own hips. He dragged against his Yusuf’s spine, his balls caressing the cleft of his ass, his breaths coming out ragged with his own desperation. 

It had come up so fast— the arousal in his blood simmering almost non-existently low until Joe had licked over his jaw. He’d been mellow, calm and steady, content to condition his love’s hair, bathe in the water, maybe tease him a little. 

He could never bet on that, though. Not with Joe’s ass so close, his heart pumping hard and lively against Nicky’s whole body, his voice so sweet and breathless. Not now that they were _home_ and _safe,_ holding each other so tightly. 

He loved him. He _loved_ him. 

Moving to the next nipple, he felt Joe shift for a better angle— suddenly, Nicky was between his cheeks, cock gliding past the tight furl of his hole, slipping along the soft skin. It startled a cry out of him that made his lover shiver, and Nicky buried his face in Joe’s neck again. 

Every drag was electric. Every moan felt like his own pleasure. Every pull of his fist over his Yusuf’s cock felt like it was the one that could take him over the edge. He was trembling, back arched like a bow as he rode his cock with the muscles of his ass and bared his throat to his Nicky’s hot, desperate mouth. His breaths were shivery, shallow things that were nearly cries, a sob stuck in his gut that Nicky could _feel_ in the air. 

_“Let go, ya Hayati—“_ he found the words to say, his nose in the soft curls at his nape, licking over a freckle at the first knob of his spine. 

It took one more pull, one more twist, one nail flicking the slit of him before Yusuf stuttered on his cock. His muscles clenched, and Nicky thrust forward with a shout into Joe’s hair, release jetting out into the water and over his curled fist. 

_“F-Fuck—“_ the sob finally rang out against the tile walls, trailing off into punched out little whimpers as Nicky thrusted savagely for the last three strokes. 

He bit down into the meat of Joe’s shoulder, a dusting of brown speckles under his mouth as the coil between his hips finally released into an explosion of static. Ripples of sensation overwhelmed him, every muscle tensed as he thrust his release out into the warm water.

***The quiet was wet, humid and heavy with shea and cinnamon, sandalwood and sex. His hold on Joe eased up, teeth against his shoulder becoming tender licks and kisses. He nuzzled into his nape and felt curls against his skin. 

Joe was shivering and lax, unable to hold himself up anymore, and he fell back into Nicky’s waiting arms. Without more than a moment lost, he curled up in his lap, knees drawn up to his chest and eyes still hazy. Nicky cupped his cheek, carefully stroking over his hair as Joe settled under the crook of his arm. 

The aftershocks left them breathless and sated. Nicky hummed in response when Joe let out a long sigh. Neither of them felt pressed to speak. 

Long minutes ticked by, the hush only broken by the occasional nonverbal call and response. Nicky was reclined against the back of the tub, the water just starting to go cold, when Joe finally kissed his chest and spoke. 

“We should get out of the tub, maybe?” He said it as a question, reluctant to move, his voice still ragged around the edges. 

Nicky smiled, “In a minute?” 

Joe nodded, “We’re gonna turn into little prunes, Babe.” 

“But I still have to condition your beard.” He countered dryly, a smirk tilting his lips only once Joe let out a full laugh, sparkling in the hazy air, cutting through it with his joy. 

“Okay. _Okay,_ Nicoló.” He turned to face him, the joke still in his eyes. “My filthy Frank doesn’t want to get out of the bath.” 

Nicky snorted, “My _Primadonna_ neglecting his beard care.” 

“I was _not_ a Primadonna— I was accustomed to not bathing, I travelled for work, I just didn’t _revel in my filth_ like Europeans did—“ 

“Okay, _okay.”_ Nicky laughed, hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say.” 

The shea was cooling on the little table, but was still melted enough for Nicky to dip in his fingers and tip his _Primadonna’s_ jaw toward him. 

They would get out soon— Joe’s curls falling over his freckled forehead and Nicky's mind already thinking about putting dinner back on the stove. But for now? They had all the time in the world.


End file.
